


A Date To Die For

by ParasiteMonarch



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! - All Media Types, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:45:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParasiteMonarch/pseuds/ParasiteMonarch





	A Date To Die For

* * *

Of course taking a nightly stroll with Bakura would end up in an abandoned cemetery. Tristan was hardly surprised, but that didn’t exactly help settle his nerves. The evidently “lovely” weather, as Bakura would call it, of spring showers had been inspiring enough to bring Bakura out into the world of the living... but only after dusk when there was no longer any trace of said living.

Tristan shivered as a chilly wind bore into him, the rain had ended some time ago, but there was still the occasional sensation of a stray droplet landing on his cheek or forehead. He squinted up at the moon, full and glowing as it disappeared in and out of view behind the racing clouds. It was now their only source of light as they left the dim streetlights behind. Tristan was beginning to regret letting Bakura drag him out the door without a flashlight.

"_See, isn't this romantic?_" the ghostly teen sneered up at him, having had happily taken up residency hanging off his arm. “_Oh yeah, n-not freaky at all_...", Tristan retorted, eyes sweeping the area as he slowly turned to glance down at Bakura, never meeting his gaze as he instead scrutinized the shadows dancing behind them over the top of Bakura's bobbling head.

Bakura chuckled, soft and low in his throat, "_I had hoped you would enjoy it._" He blithely dismissed Tristan’s opinion, lightly pushing off him and sliding his hand down Tristan's arm, letting it come to rest in his palm instead. He began to lead Tristan through the wooded graveyard, the newly spouting grass giving wet crunches as they treaded atop the earth housing the dead. As they slowly weaved through the labyrinth of graves, Tristan regarded the headstones of varying shapes and sizes, the names and engravings a sobering reminder of what was inevitable. He wasn't reading them as an excuse if Bakura started teasing him about looking so tense; And he certainly wasn't watching them with intent because he expected an arm to burst out at any moment or anything. Clearly.

A sudden rustle behind him caused Tristan to jump a step closer to Bakura, who briefly turned to snicker at him. Tristan huffed out a sigh, eyes darting around, hoping to miraculously land on something that would distract him long enough to make it through the night without skyrocketing blood pressure. Predictably though, as soon as he caught sight of Bakura again, watching the way he wafted through the fog enveloping them, he was fixated. His paleness illuminated by the moonlight, glowing wisps of hair haunted by the wind; He held an ethereal look that clashed with his dirty sweats and Tristan’s old t-shirt that hung off his willowy frame, yet suited him just the same. A vision of unearthly charm, he was an emissary drifting heedlessly between life and death; And if tonight were any indication, should Tristan find himself following Bakura into Hell itself, he couldn't say with certainty he would mind.

The hairs at the nape of Tristan's neck started to stand, perspiration sliding down into the back of his shirt. Through his musings, he absentmindedly tried to brush the feeling away with his hand, pausing when he came in contact with something that was cool to the touch, but was definitely not sweat. Confused, he turned his head a notch to see what it was.

A hand.

A cold, blue, disembodied hand. Tristan stopped breathing, yet he felt breath at his ear. His eyes shot up and he came face to face with a translucent, severed head gaping at him. He yelped and jumped at least a meter, stumbling over his own feet and toppling over a gravestone, finally falling gracelessly on his behind. Bakura leisurely strolled over to him, "_What?_" he asked dully.

Tristan babbled incoherently, unable to formulate an intelligent response. Bakura blinked down at him, then looked up to stare blankly at the specter, which remained a few feet away. It drooped slightly to one side, mouth still agape, almost as if questioning. Bakura scoffed and sauntered past Tristan to shoo at the apparition, as if it were an annoying housefly buzzing around his food. After the ghostly face was whisked away into an immaterial existence of blue smoke, Bakura spun back around, a hand on his hip, "_Hah! You think that’s scary?_" he smirked down at Tristan, "_I can show you scary..._" he practically purred. "_Erm... that’s okay, you don't have to do that. Really._" Tristan groaned, pushing up against the headstone he had fallen over. When he lifted his head again, he noticed something out in the distance. A faint glowing, deep in the forest.

"_What's...?_"

  
Slowly more and more lights ignited, floating out from the trees and surrounding the pair. "_Great, now what?!_" Tristan cried, wildly looking around for any way out of this situation. "_Ghost candles,_" Bakura's voice was calm and curious as he held out his hand, offering it to dance delicately in the air with the orbs, "_Spirits of the fallen that, certain folklore say, may guide lost travelers back to safety..._" He met Tristan's gaze and held it, unwavering, "_Or lead them further astray, to their own agonizing demise._" Dragged through the monotone drone, Tristan was caught in Bakura's dark eyes, cavernous and unfathomable, unwelcoming but captivating.

  
"_Worried you won't find your way out?_"

  
Tristan blinked, breaking from the trance. He leaned back on the fallen headstone, "_Nah._" He shrugged, offering a lopsided grin. Bakura faltered for a split second, the hint of a smile arising at the corner of his lips. Suddenly, a frigid gust of wind blew, scattering and extinguishing the phantom lights. Bakura's face set into a pensive glare as he surveyed the area, "_It seems there are malevolent spirits here..._" he muttered.

  
"_You mean besides yourself?_" Tristan joked.

  
Bakura whirled around, "_Get away from there._" he snapped. "_Huh?_", Tristan scooted away as Bakura swept down, digging his knees into the mud to push all his weight against the dislodged stone until it was completely upright again. "_There. See, your grave is fine._” Bakura spoke to no one, looking out into the distance while wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, smearing dirt into his pale fringe, then smoothing his scathed palms against his sweatpants. Tristan blinked, "_Uh...Bakura?_"

Bakura ignored him, too invested in his conversation with the air. He must not have liked what he heard though, because he snarled and shot up. Suddenly, the wind howled and whirled wildly around the two, and as it whipped harshly against Tristan's face, he almost thought he too could hear words in the turbulence, but couldn't make any sense of it.

"_That’s not going to happen!_" Bakura yelled back at the unseen presence while taking a step closer to Tristan, "_I already have a claim on this soul!_"

"_Bakura! What the heck’s going on!?_" Tristan clamored. Bakura shot him a meaningful look, "Y_ou disturbed her resting place... and now she wants you to pay._"

"_Please tell me this is a joke! You brought me out here so you could prank me... right?!_"

"_Get up and stay behind me._" Bakura ordered. Tristan scrambled up and Bakura snatched his hand in a death grip that said he would sooner kill Tristan himself than let any other entity have him. "_Clearly you underestimate the power with which you meddle, you pathetic poltergeist!_" Bakura shouted over the unrelenting gusts. Slowly, the moon's glow began to disappear, taking with it the last bit of light in the world. Complete darkness descended upon the cemetery, Tristan spun, watching helplessly as the trees and graves disintegrated in the clutches of the reaching shadows. And suddenly, all was still.

There was nothing.

  
No sound but the deafening pounding of Tristan's heart in his head. No wind, yet Bakura's hair continued to bristle up at odd angles. No cold, but a chill still rushed down Tristan’s spine, accompanied by a suffocating feeling of despair. One perception seemed amplified in contrast, and it was that of the noxious smell of all mortal existence rotting and eroding away. Tristan swore Bakura's presence was the only thing keeping him grounded in reality, if they were even still a part of it.

"_Don’t think you can back down now, wretch! This is what happens to those who try to claim ownership of my possessions!_"

Tristan could barely hear Bakura cursing the revenant anymore, he sounded distant and faded. A heavy thumping grated down on him, he swayed slightly, yielding and surrendering to it. A piercing, inhuman wail pulled him back momentarily from his deteriorating awareness. Through blurring vision he could make out an apparition of a sickly green figure, dark strands flailing wildly around it as it thrashed.

"_I won’t afford you the courtesy of sending you back to the depraved pit you crawled out of; Be vanquished!_"

A putrid, metallic taste overwhelmed Tristan's senses, he choked as the feeling crushed him, as though his entire being was made of loathing. He staggered and collapsed onto Bakura, who maneuvered in a strange and fluid way to be able to keep his hold on Tristan's hand while also holding up the dead-weight of his body. Suddenly wracked and hollow, the only thing feeding Tristan hope that he wasn't actually dead was the faint but consistent sensations of a squeezing on his hand and a soft tickling at his neck.

After what could have been either a minute or countless lifetimes and deaths, the feeling began to lift, the darkness soon chasing after it. The hopeful glimmer of the moon returned, and Tristan had never been so happy to see a graveyard in his life. He stumbled back on unsure legs, finally allowing the breath he had been holding entirely too long to burst out of his aching lungs. Bakura eased his hold on Tristan’s hand, tentatively rubbing the knuckles, "Your hand is clammy." he noted flatly, pulling gently to continue guiding Tristan as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Tristan stared after him, blinking and startling as a wetness trickled into his eyes. He looked down, a spattering of rain beginning to soak through his favorite jacket and cause it to cling wetly to his skin. He felt Bakura's hand slip from his grasp, and looked up in time to see him fall against a tree as his knees buckled underneath him. "_Bakura!_" Any remaining drowsiness was shaken as he rushed to Bakura's side, instinctively sweeping his hands over Bakura to make sure he wasn't injured, and not because he was scared and didn't know what to do.

"_You okay?_" He asked while pushing Bakura's wet hair from his face. Bakura stirred, straining to keep hold of his consciousness, "_Erg, I didn’t mean... to use that much energy... on such a weakling._" he rasped out bitterly. Tristan frowned, now having even less of a clue how he could help in this situation, "_Com'ere, I'll carry you back._"

Bakura cackled breathlessly, "_Aren't you the one... in sorry condition?_" he squinted up at Tristan with weary eyes. Tristan shook his head, kneeling to brace Bakura's knees, "Yeah well, looks to me like you’re in worse shape than me right now." Bakura gave a weak groan but otherwise conceded as he was lifted into Tristan’s arms. Tristan slowly navigated the dark cemetery through the sprinkling rain, taking care to cradle Bakura's face into the nook of his neck in a superficial attempt to shield him from it. "Just remind me to never get on your bad side." He thought aloud.

"_Not to worry... Love,_" Bakura murmured languidly, thick lashes fluttering until he could no longer keep up the effort. "_I’ll make sure your punishments..._” for emphasis, Bakura haphazardly jabbed his finger into Tristan’s cheek, letting it slide lazily down his jaw until it fell limply to rest on his stomach again. “_Are nothing short of... Mm, pleasurable_." Bakura smirked dreamily as he slipped into a peaceful slumber, nuzzling wetly into Tristan's collarbone.

"_Yeah, that's great. Thanks._" Tristan deadpanned. Then he paused. Didn't he already walk past that headstone? He turned around and stood there, staring dumbly at the darkness while the rain continued to pelt them. The realization slowly dawned on him that he had no idea how to get back. They were lost. Tristan tried not to panic, feeling a little lame for silently pleading with Bakura to wake up. No luck. Well, it couldn't be that hard, if he kept walking, he had to find the edge of the forest eventually, right?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a light shoot past. Tristan froze, rain and sweat dripping off his face. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and steadily turned to face whatever may be awaiting him. It took him a few seconds to actually open his eyes, and he blinked several more times just to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

In the small clearing, a flame burned brightly in the air, uneffected by the rain. "_Um, hi?_" Tristan smiled cautiously as the wispy spirit crept closer. Coming within an inch of landing on Bakura's finger before spinning around and starting to float away. "_Okay..._" Tristan sighed warily, "_I'm trusting you're on our side..._" he spared one more glance down at Bakura before carefully setting off after the ghost candle.


End file.
